Still Here
by newvagabond
Summary: Ratchet/Optimus Prime. Post "Sick Mind". Soft. Implied. Fluff and stuff.


A/N: **Ratchet/Optimus Prime**. Post "Sick Mind". **Soft.** **Implied. Fluff and stuff.**

God, I am a mess of unfinished fics right now and this was originally part of another one but it branched off and merged again and then became its own again. I get self-conscious because I mostly write short stuff. But there's nothing wrong with ficlets.

I'll write something happier with them and maybe a tiny bit sexier later, I promise.

* * *

"The sun is rising, old friend."

The orange and white 'bot jumped a trifle. "Optimus—" Oops. He cleaned the dirt from his servos unnecessarily. "I know. I'll get back inside."

"Have you recharged at all?"

Ratchet found himself watching his Prime's pedes for a second. "No," he answered plainly. "I spent some time on calibrations..." Something like a shrug. It was a lie. He let his gaze go back up and rest on the creeping sun. He could practically feel the look he was being given. He knew what it was. What it said. He wanted to get up before Optimus could say anything, but—

"Ratchet."

The medic's hands were shaking. He was never good at masking anxiety. "I—" His vocalizer locked up.

"Do not blame yourself." Damn Optimus for being so intuitive. Guilt and shame and anxiety flared again within the medic and he covered faceplate shamefully with a clunk. Optimus gave him time.

"I wasn't prepared. I never considered..." He couldn't even look at the other 'bot.

"There was never any reason to suspect the plague would follow us to this planet," Optimus said.

"No," Ratchet agreed. "But I also believed Dark Energon to be non-existent. And look at what happened."

Optimus let his optics shift to the sky with a soft ex-vent. He was not one to argue, and did not want to exacerbate the doctor's stress. He knew that this was the third night the 'bot had been staying online longer than was healthy. In addition to the stress, he was likely lacking in charge and an overworked spark wouldn't do them any good in an emergency. But Ratchet was also stubborn. Even if he convinced him to get to his berth, he suspected he'd just continue researching viruses, even ones long since wiped out.

And clearly there was something comforting about this view at the edge of the mesa, the sunrise, land stretched on all around them.

"I cannot blame you," Optimus said, vocals light. Before Ratchet could misinterpret, he continued. "Earth's morning light is easy on the optics."

Ratchet stared, then snorted a little despite himself. "Don't tell me you like it. It's so..."

"Orange," Optimus supplied with a smile. Ratchet's optics shuttered and he looked away, light gleaming off his helm. He held his servos in his lap as his leader settled down next to him, both 'bots dangling legs over the edge.

Ratchet coiled his field inward, not wanting to broadcast his guilt any more than he already had. His hands were shaking and suddenly he found a servo over his own. Gentle, not demanding, but there. Again he was allowed time to process.

"You almost died," he vocalized finally, barely, gaze down. Optimus now took a little more command and adjusted his hand so that he could hold Ratchet's, which was still in a tremble.

"And thanks to you, I did not."

Ratchet ventilated in a rattle, and Optimus couldn't help it if his field started a comforting hum. Eventually it helped, and the medic gripped his Prime's hand in a silent, embarrassed thank you.

"We should get inside," Ratchet said, not catching the hitch in Optimus' field when he shifted away. Ratchet felt a servo on his arm now. Not a gentle hold like before but a 'you know you aren't getting up' kind of hold.

"It has been some time since I enjoyed this view," was the 'bot's argument. Optimus could be a surprisingly hilarious bullshitter.

"Subtle," he remarked. With a pointed thunk he let his helm rest against Optimus' chest plating. Thankfully this hid his smile.

Optimus said nothing, still bullshit smiling at the sun. The medic sighed and took in the sound of an oscillating spark.

Life. He was still with them. He was okay.

Quiet fell upon them and it took Ratchet all of a few kliks to doze off against his old friend.


End file.
